“I thought your motto was to disappear,” Latorre called out. “Dodging the bullet to pay for your crimes.”
“I have no crimes to atone for,” Mason replied.
“You killed Juana-”
“No. That was your doing.” Mason came to a halt in front of Latorre. “You brought the gun. You aimed it at me, and I defended myself. Her death lays strictly at your feet. Not mine.”
Time hadn’t been kind to Bimi Latorre. Deep lines and grooves formed a map over his face. Bitterness turned down the corners of his mouth. Without warning, Latorre lashed out, his fist connecting with Mason’s jaw. Jolted, he stumbled back before regaining his footing.
“No weapons,” Latorre said, grinning. He took out his gun and held it out to his side for a moment before dropping it. “So when I kill you, it will prove who is the better man. The better Apache.”
Mason also tossed his gun. “Sure. I can kick your ass without a weapon. You think I’m not Apache enough to beat you?”
“I think you’ve been in the white man’s world too long.”
A moment went by as they stared at one another, then with a roar, Latorre charged. At the last second, Mason ducked the attack, spun and swung with his other arm and connected it to Latorre’s midriff, causing the man to grunt and double over.
Latorre took a deep breath and straightened himself. “You will not walk away! I will end you.”
“You talk too much.”
Latorre attacked again. Over and over he swung, and each time Mason dodged and blocked. It was a strategy to tire the other man out, and it seemed to work, because after a few minutes Latorre began to slow. That’s when years of pent up frustration finally boiled over, and Mason bent over and charged. He hit Latorre in the gut and sent them both flying back, landing hard on the ground.
They tussled, equally matched at first, but Mason let all his anger and fear lead him. He punched with jabs and drives, using every inch of his arms and legs. Elbows thrust upward while knees tried to cripple and Latorre had a difficult time defending all parts of his anatomy at once. They dove for one another, causing each fist to connect with a jaw. They fell back, dazed.
Then out of nowhere, Latorre reached behind him and extracted a deadly wicked looking knife. “I’m going to kill you!”
“So this is how you win?” Mason demanded. “You cheat?”
“I always win.”
Just as he thrust the blade down, Mason grabbed Latorre’s arm, twisting it until the sharp steel lay at his ribs. Latorre grunted, trying to hold Mason’s thrust back, eyes wide. He shook his head, pleading, but Mason was beyond caring at this point. Latorre had taken everything from him, and he no longer had any mercy left. Using all his strength to overpower him, Mason jabbed the knife in, the sharp weapon slicing into Latorre with ease.
“No,” Latorre whispered.
“I hope you fucking die, asshole.”
“It’s … it’s poisoned,” Latorre managed to grunt. “Meant for you.”
“Poison isn’t the Apache way.” Mason yanked the knife out and rolled away, pushing to his feet. He stared down at the dying man. “I guess we know who is Apache enough now.”
He watched as Latorre convulsed, gasping for air, until foam leaked out of the corner of his mouth and death glazed over the man’s eyes. The sound of sirens pierced in the distance, but Mason didn’t run. He simply moved a few feet from the body and sat on the ground, waiting for the police to come. He was done running. Done with it all. He was tired and soul-heavy.
****
Mason glanced at his reflection, wincing a little at the bruise forming on his jaw. Latorre had gotten in one good punch before he shuffled off the mortal coil. He thought he’d feel satisfaction that the fucker was dead. He paid for his sins with his life. Yet all Mason felt now was … cold.
Empty.
It was a remembered feeling. It had been Carrie who had breathed him back to life. Carrie had torn down his walls and embraced him with her warmth. She had loved him when he had thought himself unlovable. He didn’t regret avenging her, not even if his punishment was imprisonment. He wouldn’t serve, of course. He’d find a way to join her in the afterlife.
A love like theirs was meant to reach across death’s borders and he’d break through any door to be with her once more.
He sat calmly at table in the interrogation room, knowing full well how this was going to play out. The last time he’d been in this position, he’d been shitting his pants at the unjustness of it all. This time, however, he knew full well what he’d done, and he was willing to admit to it.
The door opened and in walked two men, both wearing the stereotypical dark suits one would expect to see on investigators. What really shocked him was when JD trailed behind them.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded as JD sat down across from him. Mason had a slight feeling of déjà vu, only Harlan senior had been replaced with his son.
“Ireland,” JD replied. “Underground bunker.”
“No shit.” Mason leaned back in his chair. “Carrie had you pinpointed to England. She…”
He stopped talking as a lump formed in his throat.
“I know. I know what happened,” JD said quietly. He pointed to his right. “This is Agent Michaels with the California Bureau of Investigation. Beside him is Agent Hank Steel with the Central Intelligence Agency. We’re here to release you.”
Mason raised his brows, looking between them
“We’ve received verification from Agent Steel that you’ve been working with them to take down the Hammond terrorist organization,” Agent Michaels said. “They asserted jurisdiction and took over the crime scene.”
Mason didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to ruin the story JD had spun, wondering how elaborate it was going to be.
“We’ve processed you through,” Agent Michaels said. He motioned for the guard to release the handcuffs. “Much of what happened is now classified and the case is officially closed, including the accident that Carrie Fenway had been involved in. LAPD has been notified, so you’re free to go, Mr. Lake.”
When Mason was free, he rubbed his wrists and stood. JD gave a nod for Mason to go with him, and not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, hurried after him. After he got back his personal items from holding, they left the precinct, and he refused to look back.
Agent Steel turned to Harlan. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”
JD nodded. Both watched him walk away for a moment, until he got out of earshot.
“What strings did you pull to get me out of there?” Mason asked once they were alone. “And who the hell is Agent Steel? Why is he waiting for you?”
“There’s a lot of shit going on,” JD muttered.
“Clearly. There’s been a lot of shit I’ve been handling, too, you know.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” JD sighed and ran a hand over his face, fatigue etched in the lines around his eyes. “Listen. I know you’re going to be pissed, but the truth of the matter is I had to compromise to keep us all out of prison.”
“What did you do?” Mason asked grimly.
“We’re now employees of the Federal government.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, Mason shook his head. “No, no way are we going back to Black Ops. No fucking way!”
“No, not Black Ops. Full security governmental contract, using our technology to help diplomats and their families in hostile countries.”
Mason blinked. “Bodyguards?”
“I told them, Lake. I told the CIA everything about Denton Slidell. About my father, about us covering it up … even about my kidnapping.”
“It was his daughter, wasn’t it?”
JD nodded his confirmation.
“So everything is out? No more secrets?”
“No more secrets,” JD murmured. “I have to go back. There’s still a lot more debriefing I have to do.”
“You came out here for me?”
“Of course. When I talked to Lee—”
“You were able to get a hold of him? The fucker’s been dodging my calls for a month!”
JD gave a wry smile. “It wasn’t a long conversation, but he told me about his decision, and I have to respect that. Out of the three of us, I think he lost the most. I can’t beg him to leave Lidah.”
“So where does that leave us? A man down?”
“Well, so far we have Agent Steel,” JD replied, with a roll of his eyes. “He’s become my BFF recently. But we’ll figure it out. We always do. For now, however, you need to get back to Carrie’s side, and I need to give campaign promises to Congress.”
“I don’t have a car,” Mason said.
JD pointed to a black sports car that sat under a widely branched tree. “You can take mine. Agent Steel said I need to ride with him. They were gracious enough to pull some strings and get you exonerated, although it helps that Latorre really was a terrorist threat. Just don’t … kill anyone else. Okay?”
When he held up the key fob, Mason snatched it.
“Okay. No more reckless homicide, I promise. So … you sure we’re not going to prison?”
“Highly unlikely,” JD said. He winked. “I’ve got a lot of prototypes the government wants.”
He turned, waving in the air as he walked away. Mason glanced at the keys, then at the car, and back to the police precinct. Then he hurried over to JD’s sports car, started it up, and raced back to the hospital.
Epilogue
Two weeks later
Carrie fluttered her eyelids, not wanting to wake up, but knowing she had to. Mason kept talking in her ear, begging her to come back, but she wasn’t sure where she’d been. Consciousness had been swimming to the surface every now and then, with flashes of lights and people talking, but she’d always managed to go back to sleep. Still, he’d become this voice in her head telling her to open her eyes. Sometimes even demanding.
A glow from the machines around her was her only light, and she saw Mason slumped in a chair next to her … bed? Carrie suddenly remembered from an earlier period that she was in a hospital, but she couldn’t remember exactly why. The only memory that seemed to linger was fear.
Mason looked tired. New strands of silver darted through his thick, black locks. Even in his sleep, deep brackets lined his mouth, making him look like he was frowning. It pained her heart knowing she was the reason why he seemed aged.
“M-Mason,” she whispered.
He opened his eyes immediately and sat up. Their gazes locked, and a slow smile emerged, erasing some of the tension that had lingered in his body.
“You’re here,” he whispered back. “You came back.”
“Where did I go?”
He linked their fingers together, the ring on her finger twinkling in the light. “No place I wouldn’t follow.
The End
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Reckless (World of Danger Book 3) Page 6
